


Waking God

by toldthestars



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26050015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toldthestars/pseuds/toldthestars
Summary: Why are Ianto's dreams coming true? What's in the box with the symbol on it? Oh, and while we're at it, what's the meaning of the life?
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 30
Kudos: 48





	Waking God

[Musical Accompaniment ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2DmqJEkK6c)

Dreams.

They are the drivel your brain drools out when you’re too preoccupied with the business of sleep to make it to shut up.

At least, that was Ianto Jones’s opinion on the matter. And after all, no matter how strange his dreams became, they still could not touch the absurdity of his day job. Of course, that didn’t mean Ianto couldn’t, on occasion, _enjoy_ his dreams.

He was playing the piano. It was interesting, because Ianto couldn’t play the piano.

“You can’t play the piano,” said Jack, from the doorway. Ianto’s fingers nearly tied themselves into knots as Jack approached. Between the tuxedo, the martini glass and the smile that said, _say yes,_ Jack made for a very serious distraction from Beethoven’s _Silencio_.

“Not with you around, no,” Ianto said, refocusing on the cool ivory keys under his fingers.

Jack paused at one of the portholes, and started into the lazy vibrant swirl of space. He looked around at the lavishly decorated ballroom. “Nice place you got here,” Jack said with an approving nod. He raised a glass to Ianto. “And you make an excellent martini.”

Ianto took a look up at the chandelier, which was busying itself with sending prismatic sparks to lie on gold filigree leaves sprawled over the walls, on fine violet velvet drapery, on the artfully crafted furnishings. “Suppose it’s not bad,” Ianto agreed.

Jack came to sit next to Ianto on the piano bench. His fingers rudely intruded into Ianto’s space and _Silienco_ abruptly became _The Entertainer_. Ianto leaned across the crimson satin cushion to nudge Jack harshly. “Cheek,” he said.

Jack nudged back and quickly things shifted and suddenly they were on top of the piano, making music of their own as nebulas drifted past and paid them no notice.

∞

Sometimes, Ianto left his flat a bit earlier than usual to enjoy a stroll to the Hub. Often, he walked past Novotel, and glanced through the glass panes at a piano in the lobby. On occasion, he’d thought that it looked lonely.

What Ianto had never done before was slip through the front doors, take a seat at the piano, and begin to play it.

_Silencio_ filled the lobby.

Shortly thereafter, he was asked—very politely—to stop playing the piano, as it was mostly for display purposes. Like being awakened, Ianto blinked quickly. He stood and backed abruptly away from the piano, bumping into someone behind him. He turned.

A small and wizened woman blinked at him and put a wrinkled, thin-skinned hand on his arm. “That was lovely, young man,” she stared at him through cloudy eyes. “Thank you.”

It took Ianto a moment to understand. He smiled down at her, and her blue eyes focused just a little more. “You’re welcome,” said Ianto.

He continued on his way to work. Eventually, he began to whistle.

∞

Ianto could admit it had been a strange morning. He had spontaneously developed the talent to play piano—yes, that was odd. It continued on from there.

They sat in the conference room and stared at the image on the monitor.

“Is it…” Gwen squinted, tilted her head. “A cruise ship?”

“Appeared late last night,” Jack said, arms crossed over his chest. “Disappeared this morning. UNIT was unable to make contact. It was there, and then it just…wasn’t.”

“There was no transmission from the…vessel,” Tosh interjected, clicking away at her laptop’s keyboard. “But they did pick up this audio.”

Ianto was strangely unsurprised when Beethoven flooded the room.

“Alright,” Owen said. “Titanic in space. What does UNIT suggest we do about it?”

Jack gave a shrug. “Not a whole hell of a lot. Chances are this is a future luxury craft that got off course somehow, ended up in the wrong time. There was no signal of hostility, no weapons registered in UNIT’s scan. But it could indicate that there’s an instability somewhere. Might be nothing. Might be the universe having a temporal temper tantrum. We just don’t know enough.”

“So, let me guess,” Gwen groaned, leaning back in her chair. “We’re on Rift Watch.”

“Full surveillance,” Jack affirmed. “Twenty-four hours, and we’ll check in from there.”

There was a round of grumbles from the table. Jack turned to Ianto. “I trust you’ll keep us fully caffeinated. Can’t have anyone nodding off.”

Ianto was inclined to agree.

∞

“I had a dream,” Ianto admitted.

His body was cool against Jack’s, despite how incredibly warm he’d been very recently. The heat was drawn into his fingertips as Jack’s hands played with his. Jack let out a little hum of interest.

“Not that sort of dream,” Ianto said, giving Jack a little shove with his shoulder. Of course, it _had_ been that sort of dream, but Jack was fairly easily distracted and Ianto was trying to get to a point.

Jack grunted with disappointment, but Ianto could tell he was still listening.

“I dreamt I was on a sort of ship in the sky. Posh sort of décor, and it was—“

“Titanic in space?” Jack said. He was abruptly sitting up, and Ianto felt cold when their bodies parted.

“No. Not Titanic in space. I hated that film. But, well, yes, very much _like_ that.”

Jack was staring at him. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

Ianto shrugged. “It’s just a dream.”

Ianto felt as though Jack was studying him. Usually, it gave his insides an exhilarating twist to find Jack’s eyes so attentively on him. There was nothing good about the knot in his stomach now.

“It’s weird you don’t think this is weird,” Jack said. However, he resettled himself on the bunk and Ianto laid back down next to him. “If you have any other…unusual dreams, you tell me immediately, you got that?”

Ianto nodded, and yawned. He could feel Jack’s muscles, tight under his skin. He pressed a hand against Jack’s stomach, and felt him relax, if only a little.

Ianto decided to not mention the piano.

∞

And then, Abaddon the Destroyer returned to Cardiff.

And Ianto was forced to reevaluate this opinion regarding the insignificance of dreams.

The SUV tore down the highway in the direction of the last reported sighting. In quick glances, Ianto assessed the other passengers. Tosh’s face, bleached by the light of her laptop as she tracked Rift Activity. Gwen’s chatter as she issued directives to her police contacts. Owen’s furrowed brow as he checked the settings of various weapons, of earthly origin and otherwise. And, of course, Jack, shoving the SUV through mid-morning traffic at a velocity that turned speed limits into punch lines.

Ianto cleared his throat. No one cared.

“’S a funny thing,” Ianto began. He went on, “I think I had a dream last night that Abaddon had returned.”

Suddenly, Ianto became the most interesting thing in the whole wide world. The look Ianto found in the rearview mirror from Jack could easily be called a glare.

“You were supposed to tell me,” Jack said.

“Anyone else think that’s a hell of a coincidence?” Owen asked. “Anyone else not believe in coincidences?”

“Wait,” Gwen said, turning from Jack to Ianto. “What’s going on here? What does he mean, you were supposed to tell him? Ianto?”

Ianto looked out of the window. Cars blurred past them, and he wondered what was happening in those separate little universes.

“I dreamt about the space liner,” he said. Ianto turned back to his team. To clarify, he added, “Before it appeared on UNIT’s scans.”

No one said anything for a moment.

“Ianto,” Gwen said carefully. “What happened in your dream about Abaddon?”

Ianto cleared his throat. “Ah…he was going after Jack. To kill him.”

Jack swerved, cursing creatively. Traffic around them seemed to scatter in all directions like large spooked metal insects. Large on the horizon and growing was Abaddon.

Ianto’s chest tightened. _He’s come to kill Jack_.

Tosh looked suddenly down on her screen. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “I’ve been tracking him—he was no where near here a moment ago.”

“Ianto, then what happened?” Gwen asked, tensing in her seat. They were close, close enough to see glistening fangs as large as their bodies and the mad, murderous glint in the creature’s eyes. The SUV didn’t slow, although there wasn’t much suggestion of a plan, with regard to not dying a messy, slobbery death.

Ianto frowned, trying to recall the fuzzy tumble of events that had been his nightmare. “I dunno, he was after us, and then…and then I suppose I just woke up.”

And then Abaddon was gone.

There should have been a collective sigh of relief. The absence of it was palpable.

“Well,” said Ianto. “That was weird.”

∞

Ianto had been awake for 51 hours. He checked his watch. 51 and 49 minutes.

There was a part of him that felt like a ghost, like his eyes were not real, like he desperately, desperately needed to lie down before he lost the thread of himself completely. He’d never been so very tired, had never craved dreaming as he did then.

On the other hand, he was fine.

“I swear,” Ianto yawned. “I’m alright.”

Jack and Owen stared at him dubiously. “He can only do this for so long,” Jack said, as though Ianto wasn’t there. Which was fine, Ianto was only partially sure that he was.

“The record is 18 days, 21 hours and 40 minutes. I do enjoy challenges, sir,” Ianto interjected. He titled his head. “I didn’t know I knew that. I’m beginning to find things I didn’t know I knew.” Ianto’s eyes widened. “I _do_ know everything. I _knew_ it.”

Owen’s gaze flicked towards Jack before calling an image onto the monitor of the conference room. “This is Ianto’s brain,” Owen said. “Taken during a complete examination required of new Torchwood employees. This,” Owen went on, switching the image, “is Ianto’s brain on whatever the fucking hell he’s taken. Any questions?”

Jack let out a low whistle.

There wasn’t a part of Ianto’s brain that wasn’t represented with lines of electric color, not a dark spot in the expanse of the image.

“But I feel fine, honestly,” Ianto insisted. “I haven’t taken anything. Also, it’s a common misconception that people only use 10% of their brains. We actually use nearly all of it, all of the time. Science has not yet accounted for Owen, however. ”

“What the hell is it?” Jack asked Owen.

“I haven’t even the slightest idea,” Owen yawned, shaking his head. “My professional opinion is that his brain should be soup by now, but who knows. No one’s ever seen that sort of activity before.”

Owen reached for the coffee on the table. “Thanks, Ianto,” he muttered as he brought the coffee to his lips. He froze abruptly, and pulled the mug away from his mouth, staring at it suspiciously. “Hang on a tick. Did I have this a moment ago?”

Ianto shifted in his seat. He wasn’t sure what he’d done. But he’d done something. “You looked tired,” Ianto said, by way of explanation.

Jack and Owen were staring strangely at him again. There was something Ianto thought he was beginning to understand, and it would mean quite a lot of being stared at strangely.

“Jack,” Owen said, quite calmly, and still looking at Ianto. “May I have a word outside?”

Jack nodded, and rose from his seat.

Ianto found that he could hear them anyway, but he chose not to listen. Instead, he folded his hands neatly in his lap and counted stars in his head.

∞

Gwen screamed.

The others had been deeply involved investigating why Ianto’s head had become a door between dream and reality when he arrived abruptly.

She clapped a hand over her chest, and leaned heavily on the desk behind her. “Christ! Ianto! You just came out of nowhere!”

“Sorry. Next time I’ll bang a pot or something. I was in the archives,” Ianto said, taking a box from under his arm. He held it tightly with both hands.

“I didn’t see anyone in the archives,” Toshiko said, checking a monitor.

“I was quick about it,” Ianto said. “But I meant, before this all started—“

“What are you holding?” Gwen asked. She was walking towards Ianto, her eyes focused with a furious curiosity on the box in his hands. Ianto drew it closer to his body. Her intent gaze didn’t waver, even when Jack’s fingers clasped around her outstretched hand and yanked it away from the box.

“For Christ’s sake, don’t touch it!” Jack snapped. He turned to Ianto. “Do have any idea what you’re holding?”

Ianto looked at the box. He looked back at Jack. “Yes,” he answered.

“There, that symbol,” Owen interrupted, pointing, but from a safe distance—or a distance he assumed was safe. “What does that mean?”

Ianto looked around as Owen and Toshiko gathered in tighter to stare at the object. It was plain enough, just a wood box—made of oak, weighing roughly 3 kilograms, and old enough to say definitively who gave the apple to who. The only distinguishing feature, a carved symbol decorating the top. Ianto traced it with a finger. “It’s got a number of translations in ancient world dialects—and, in fact, in several alien cultures that have a pictographic language. Seems to have several general meanings, all around a similar theme.”

With exaggerated patience, Owen said, “And that theme would be…?”

“God,” Ianto answered. “Generally.”

“God. Generally,” Owen repeated, in an oddly calm tone.

There was a moment of reflection.

“Ianto,” Jack began quietly, “tell me you didn’t open the box.”

“Of course I opened the box.”

“Why,” Jack groaned, clapping a hand to his forehead. “Why did you open the box?”

“Well,” Ianto replied thoughtfully. “To see what was inside.” Seemed reasonable enough to him. “Also, opening boxes is in my job description.”

“You don’t have a job description,” Jack muttered, around the thumb he was presently chewing.

“But if I did, it would be in it.”

“I don’t understand,” said Toshiko. She hurried back to her station and cued up the CCTV. “I’ve been reviewing the tapes of Ianto’s activity. Watch.”

Ianto saw himself in the archives. Or, at least, he saw his shoes. The rest of him was under a large shelving unit. He’d thought he’d seen something that had fallen in the back, and was having ungraceful luck in retrieving it.

Finally, Ianto watched himself stand and dust his suit off with a wrinkled nose. He took a look at the box, turning it over a few times in his hands. He brought it to his ear for a listen; shook it. He took another look at it before giving a brief shrug and putting a hand on the lid and preparing to open the box.

Ianto felt their indrawn breath, and the rapidity of their hearts.

He saw himself open the box.

He watched nothing happened.

“You see?” Toshiko said. “There’s nothing.”

“Play it again,” Jack ordered. “Only play with spectral imaging. Whatever was in the box might not have shape, but it might have energy.”

And now, the colorful blob that was Ianto’s body stood up, brushed itself, and opened a small object. The screen became a prism of color, a supernova rainbow, and then went entirely white. It faded, and left only one solid white figure in the grayness of the room. It shrugged and left.

Ianto was surrounded by wide-eyed stares.

“Ianto,” Jack breathed. “What’s happened to you?”

Ianto shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Of course, he did know. But Ianto also knew that even the best gods lie on occasion.

∞

“Admit it,” Owen barked.

“Alright,” Ianto nodded. “It was me.”

Owen threw his hands in the air. “You see? He even _admits_ it.”

“Yes, well, never underestimate irritation as an interrogation technique,” Ianto said calmly. Honestly, he couldn’t see what all the yelling was for.

Jack looked away from the monitor. He didn’t take a seat. Ianto watched Jack, as the others watched a Weevil creep through thick alleyway gloom to attack Owen from behind, then promptly vanish.

“How?” Gwen asked. “How could you have done it? You weren’t even there.”

“It’s got to do with that box, hasn’t it?” Owen said, thumping the table.

“Yes. The box, and my own misguided idea of being helpful, apparently,” Ianto answered directly. As lovely as it had been to get to know Myfanwy on a deeper level, she was a limited conversationalist. He’d assumed saving Owen’s life would have helped his chances of being put back on fieldwork. It appeared Ianto was not infallible. Not yet, at any rate.

Ianto raised a hand. “Point of clarification. Are we angry about _how_ I saved Owen’s life, or _that_ I saved Owen’s life? Because I’d just like to repeat, I did _save Owen’s life._ ”

“We know, Ianto,” Gwen said in the voice she used on strangers and suspects.

“We’re trying to understand,” Tosh said patiently. “What did you do with them? I’ve done a scan—they’re all just gone. Not a single Weevil left in Cardiff.”

“Not even in our vaults,” Jack said in a heavy tone. “Did you kill them, Ianto?”

Ianto looked at Jack, and found it strange to feel like a stranger in his eyes.

They would want to know where he sent them, maybe would have liked to hear that all of the Weevils were peacefully sent back to their home planet. Of course, the world of the Weevils was a place that challenged the imagination for the most accurate definition of Hell. There was a reason the Weevils kept coming through the Rift. Ianto couldn’t have sent them home, knowing what he did. But they were also products of their world. They carried Hell inside them, and made it so no place they went had the possibility of peace.

He hadn’t killed the Weevils, but they couldn’t be called alive in any technically sense.

An entire planet had suddenly realized the universe was better off without it, and had sheepishly made its way out of existence and into the nothing from whence it—and everything--comes.

“Ianto, what did you do with the Weevils?” Gwen asked.

Ianto thought.

“I sent them back to where they came from,” Ianto answered diplomatically.

“Their home planet?” Gwen asked.

“Not as such.”

“Another planet?”

“…Strictly speaking, no.”

“Ianto—“ Gwen stood abruptly, and Ianto understood that answering honestly wasn’t the same as answering correctly. “What does that mean?” she demanded. She looked to Jack. “Jack, can’t you tell us what any of this means? What’s happening to him? Is he actually becoming…is he really some sort of…”

Jack looked at Gwen, then slowly turned to look out over the Hub through the pane glass.

“Alright, well then,” Owen said quickly. He stood up, and rapped his knuckles against the top of the conference table. “It’s been a good run. I thought there might be a day when things got just a bit too fucking weird for me at this place, and congratulations, Ianto Jones, you are that day.”

He turned and left the room. “Wait, Owen!” Gwen called, and jogged quickly after him. Toshiko followed, pausing at the door to look at Ianto for a moment. He smiled at her reassuringly. When she went after the others, his smile faded.

Ianto stared at Jack’s reflection, thought of him briefly in an immaculate tuxedo—but only briefly. “What else can you do?” Jack asked, without bothering to turn towards Ianto.

“Oh, let’s see,” Ianto said. “I can make an excellent latte, I’m good with spreadsheets, and I’m ambidextrous. But you knew all that.” Ianto paused. “Particularly the last bit.”

Jack turned, his arms crossed and his gaze harsh. “Those are things about Ianto. I don’t know that you’re still him.”

In the interest of not making things worse, Ianto went through the effort of standing to come closer to Jack. “Jack. Please. It’s me. I’m just…a little more.” He reached out to touch Jack’s face, and Jack caught his hand.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t lock you in the vaults,” Jack said flatly.

Ianto could say he was still a member of the team, and that he wanted to help them, to protect them. He could have said he loved them—everyone in fact, he loved everyone in the whole world. He loved Jack. But these were truths Jack wouldn’t put his faith in. So Ianto chose the one he would. He watched Jack carefully as he slowly bent to kiss the hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. The fingers loosened slightly, Jack’s eyes softened.

“Because,” Ianto answered quietly. “Locking me up wouldn’t do any good.”

∞

Ianto walked to work. He didn’t have to, he’d found. He didn’t have to walk anywhere. But it felt good, and the others didn’t seem to like his appearances, or…well…him, these days. Besides, walking gave him an opportunity to fix things.

He’d discovered he was good at it.

In flats along his path, missing keys put themselves in the most obvious place. Fried appliances became functional. Empty wallets gained a tenner. Barren pantries stocked themselves, if only with just the essentials. Heavy hearts lost a few grams. Every flower burst into bloom and turned towards the sidewalk as he past. The birds sang _Silencio._

Ianto looked up at the very blue sky. He thought it was all pretty good.

∞

Again, Ianto found Owen’s eyes peering at him over the chart he was supposed to be studying. Ianto rolled down his sleeve, over the tiny gauze keeping a cotton ball where he’d had blood drawn. He didn’t know why Owen bothered—it’d healed the moment the needle had slid away from his skin.

Owen hadn’t quit as he’d threatened. He continued daily “assessment” of Ianto’s condition. Although no one had mentioned it to him, Ianto knew they were working tirelessly to “fix” him.

Ianto felt another furtive glance. He sighed deeply.

“Owen,” he said, buttoning his cuff. “I’d rather be locked in a cell with a Weevil in heat than read your mind. Although I imagine it’s a similar experience.”

Owen glared at Ianto from behind his clipboard. “How’d you know that’s what I was thinking then?” he asked coldly, scribbling a note.

“You look guilty,” Ianto said.

Owen approached him wearily.

“Open your mouth. And I’m not guilty. I haven’t done anything.” Owen depressed Ianto’s tongue, pointed his light and peered inside.

_Exactly_ , Ianto told Owen.

Owen pulled away abruptly. “Don’t…don’t do that,” he said. He bumped a bit against his cart, and put a steadying hand on it.

“Sorry, just—“

Owen held up a hand. “Just. Don’t.”

Ianto nodded. Owen also nodded, and bent down to look into Ianto’s eyes. No words were exchanged, but Ianto knew from Owen’s exasperated sigh that he could still see the universe in his pupils.

∞

The child sitting next to him finally picked her head up and looked at the sky.

Ianto didn’t ask her why she’d been crying—he didn’t have to. Sitting on park benches was not something he did often, and now he saw the vast importance of it.

Now, the girl stopped crying and stared blankly at the rainbow stretching from one end of Cardiff to another. When a second rainbow joined it, a smile began to tug at the corners of her lips. When they began to wiggle and dance, she was too busy giggling to notice the dog that had trotted up to the bench and sat down next to her. She gasped when it licked her hand.

Ianto watched her look down at the dog, give it a wide grin, and throw her arms around it. Suddenly, the girl turned to Ianto. “Thank you,” she said. Ianto nodded.

The girl stood and the dog, understanding his instructions, followed her home.

Ianto looked up. He let the sky go on dancing.

∞

Ianto had begun to take a different route each morning, and as he did, he had realized how much work there was to be done. This particular morning, he’d gone about 5 blocks when he felt something unusual. He took a few steps, and heard his footsteps echo. He paused, and it went silent. He took a few more steps, and they resounded off the sides of buildings. He turned, and noticed the 127 people following his every movement.

He paused, and then waved at them.

“I felt as though I should tell a joke or something,” Ianto said to the team. “They just kept staring at me. Except for…her.” Ianto pointed to a small woman on Toshiko’s monitor.

“What did she do?” Toshiko asked.

It had been the little old woman from Novotel. “She said, ‘Go on, dear, don’t mind us.’” Ianto smiled. “She said I was doing just fine.”

Jack frowned. “Fine? Fine at what? Toshiko, see if you can—“

“No,” Ianto said firmly. Jack raised an eyebrow at him. “It was just something she said, Jack. Leave her be.”

Jack stared at him. His arms were crossed. It seemed his default position these days. “Fine,” Jack said. “But you—you’re quarantined.”

“What?” Ianto said. For the first time in days, he felt his body react to something. Everything tightened, and he felt hot. “Jack—you can’t. You can’t just keep me here!”

Gwen gasped and grabbed Jack’s arm. “Jack,” she said warningly.

Ianto turned to Toshiko, who stared back at him with wide, frightened eyes. He took a step towards her, and she backed away. “Please,” she said, putting her hands up.

“What’s wrong? Tosh?”

Ianto watched Toshiko turn and rummage quickly in her purse. When she turned back, she held out a small mirror in front of her, and Ianto could see himself.

He was glowing. His eyes were beacons of brilliant white light. _Strange_ , he thought. He closed his eyes, and focused for a moment. He’d gotten carried away. Like in the beginning, with Abaddon, before he’d understood. It was important for the others that he not get carried away. When he looked back into the mirror, he was himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I wasn’t going to hurt anyone.” He turned back to Gwen and Jack. “I just…I have so much work to do. I’ve only just started”

Gwen nodded slowly. She said in a soft, slightly trembling voice, “That’s alright. Work can wait, until you’re feeling more…yourself. Isn’t that right, Jack?”

Jack didn’t answer. He simply stared at Ianto.

“You’ll just be staying here, so we can watch over you a little better,” Gwen went on. She still hadn’t moved from her place, just slightly behind Jack.

“You don’t understand,” Ianto said sadly. “But alright. I suppose I can work from here.”

He would miss the park bench.

“Right,” Gwen said cheerfully. “Well, I suppose there’s no reason you can’t keep up with the records and such, right?”

“We’ll see,” Jack said. He let out a long breath and turned to Tosh. “Tosh—get Owen. After that…whatever that was, I want Ianto scanned again. Scan the base as well—hell, scan everything.” He looked at Ianto. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

The truth of it hurt Ianto’s heart.

∞

There was a man who was convinced seven devils lived in his right ear. There was the war veteran who’d lost his vision when he saw his best friend blown to pieces and scattered over the battlefield. There was a woman who was celebrating with her family after she’d beaten cancer, except there was something the doctors didn’t see that Ianto could.

In the meantime, the filing piled up.

Toshiko kept looking over at him. Ianto decided it was a fine time for a break. He stood and stretched, and could feel gravity grapple to hold him. He gave in to it, and came over to Tosh’s station. “Is there anything I can get for you, Tosh? Tea?”

Tosh looked at him quickly and shook her head. Ianto began to walk away, but with a total lack of urgency.

“Ianto?”

Ianto smiled and turned.

Tosh gave a bit of a laugh and a shrug. “So,” she clapped her hands together. “The all-knowing, all-seeing Ianto Jones—is that it?”

Ianto leaned against a metal girder and slid his hands into his pockets. “Does roll off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

Tosh gave another laugh. “So…is it true?”

Ianto lifted a brow.

“The….all-knowing?” Toshiko asked.

Ianto took in a breath and nodded. He looked away for a moment. He searched for a way to explain, and for all his newfound knowing, he still couldn’t quite find it. When he returned his gaze to Tosh, he could see beyond her curious expression and into her vast and famished need to know. He took her hand, and felt her determination to not pull away.

“Tosh,” he said softly. “You realize, we don’t love you for what you know. We love because of who you are. It’s alright.”

Tosh took in a deep breath. She quickly slipped her hand from his to turn and clean her glasses with trembling fingers.

“It can’t be…said,” Ianto went on. “It’s not quite about knowing, it’s more about…seeing, I suppose. It’s all there.” Ianto waved a hand in gathering gesture. “We just can’t see it.”

Tosh replaced her glasses and, after a moment, turned back to Ianto. “Couldn’t you…teach me to see?”

Ianto took a step backwards and held up his hands. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Now Tosh reached out to grab at Ianto’s hand. “Please, Ianto?” she lowered her voice. “I just want to know what it’s like. Just…a little peek?”

Ianto looked around. He sighed. He wondered if the gods he’d read about throughout his life—Apollo, Allah, Quetzalcoatl, even…or maybe especially--had ever been lonely.

“Alright,” he said to Tosh. “Come here.”

Tosh stood close to him, looking up at him eagerly. “Just…let it happen,” he said to her. “Don’t hold on. Don’t push forward. Do you understand?”

Tosh nodded and took a deep breath. Ianto gently placed his hands on the sides of her face. She closed her eyes. Ianto knew Toshiko was looking for _knowledge_ —she wanted to be an encyclopedia, an indispensible wealth of information, to hold on to value through holding valuable facts. That was what she wanted. Not, Ianto understood, what she needed.

Ianto opened. _This, Toshiko, is the universe. Universe, Toshiko._

There aren’t words for what Ianto said to Toshiko. But if one were presumptuous and blasphemous enough to try to translate, some key ideas might be:

There was a time before time, so knowing the date of the Battle of Marimac and the Monitor became akin to picking a piece of lint off the jacket of history. There are an infinite number of moments, possible and actual, so predicting the future itself becomes an act in futility—it happens, one way or another: the river goes and goes, and doesn’t give a shit what’s convenient. Every rock is a wonder, whether it’s sedimentary or igneous, and you can build a house or bash a skull, and isn’t that something? What one knows, we all know, because—well, you know, don’t you? Life, is life layered on life layered on life on--

A shot rang through the air.

“Let her go!” Jack shouted.

Ianto abruptly pulled away from Tosh, and found she was sobbing. He looked at Jack with alarm. “I’m sorry!” he yelled up at Jack. He turned to Toshiko. “I’m so sorry. Tosh, are you alright?”

“Don’t touch her!” Jack yelled, storming down the stairs. He hadn’t holstered his gun. He grabbed Toshiko by the shoulders and gave her a shake. When she continued to cry, he pulled her into a hug. Owen appeared from med bay, and shot Ianto an accusatory glare.

“Christ, what’ve you done to her?” he snapped.

“I was…trying to help…” Ianto faltered.

“Right, because that’s been going so well lately,” Owen snorted. He held out a hand to lead Toshiko away. “I’ll take her, Jack. Here.”

Suddenly, Tosh pulled away from Jack and flung herself into Ianto’s startled arms.

“Thank you,” Tosh gasped. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

For a moment, Ianto didn’t move. Finally, he put his arms around Tosh’s body, and stroked her hair. No one touched them. Ianto was grateful.

∞

Ianto didn’t bother to stop it. He even briefly tried to be pained by it. He touched a hand to his cheek.

“You stay away from him,” Gwen warned.

Tosh was out of her seat in a moment. “Gwen! What on _earth_ are you doing?”

Gwen pointed angrily at Toshiko. “You stay out of this, Tosh! God knows what he’s done to your head.” She turned fiery eyes back on Ianto. “Go on. What did you do to him?”

Ianto sagged backwards against the desk behind him. “It wasn’t me, Gwen.” It didn’t matter, but Ianto was being completely honest.

“What did I say to you the other day?” Gwen demanded, crowding closer to Ianto.

“You said you wished Rhys would do more ‘round the flat,” Ianto intoned.

“Exactly,” Gwen snapped. “And what did I find when I came home last night? Entire flat’s been done, top to bottom. And there’s Rhys, grinning at me like he’s the happiest man on earth.”

“I’m sorry. You can’t be serious,” Toshiko cut in. “You slapped Ianto because your fiance did the cleaning? God forbid Rhys take you out to dinner—someone might lose an eye.”

Gwen turned to Toshiko with a pleading expression. “Come on, Tosh! Open your eyes! Can’t you see what he’s doing? He’s controlling people, trying to win us over.”

“With starched laundry and clean windows?” Toshiko asked with a head tilt. “My god, we _are_ in danger!”

Gwen crossed her arms and Ianto thought he could see the daggers.

“You know, Tosh, its sad how easily he’s gotten to you. It’s almost pitiable.”

It wasn’t often that Ianto witnessed Toshiko angry. If respiration mattered to him, Ianto might have held his breath.

“Don’t you dare,” Tosh said in a low, warning tone. “You can’t understand it, you can’t accept it, _fine_. But don’t judge me for seeing what’s in front of me!”

“Oh, and what’s that then?”

“You’re so invested in playing the savior for everyone that you don’t realize that’s _what he is_ ,” Tosh shouted, pointing at Ianto.

Ianto closed his eyes and swallowed. He knew Gwen was staring at Tosh with wide eyes.

“Are you insane, Tosh? Have you gone completely mad? He’s possessed, or he’s infected, or who the fuck knows what, but there’s something _wrong_ with him! That’s not Ianto. I don’t know him, and I certainly don’t trust him. You’d be smart to do the same.”

Gwen gave Ianto one more scalding glance before storming out of the Hub. He knew Tosh was looking at him.

“Ianto,” she began.

“I know,” Ianto replied.

He decided to be somewhere else.

∞

There were stars dying. It had always been true. It always would be true. But, now, Ianto could feel them.

He stared at the sky from the top of the Millennium Center. A shooting star streaked across the darkness. Followed by another. And another.

That night, Cardiff was bright with falling.

∞

“You used to say that my backrubs were divine,” Ianto reminded Jack. He wiggled his fingers. “Imagine what they’re like _now._ ”

Jack barely looked up at him from his writing. “That’s not why I called you in here,” he said briefly, and motioned for Ianto to take a seat. Ianto didn’t follow.

“Couldn’t we add an item to the agenda?” Ianto gave Jack a suggestive eyebrow quirk. “I’ve had some ideas that I’d like to try—“

Jack abruptly slammed his pen against the desk. Ianto said nothing in the resounding silence, just turned his eyes to the floor. “Stop,” Jack said. His voice sounded just the slightest bit strained. “Just...stop.”

“Stop what? There’s nothing _to_ stop,” Ianto said. “We’ve barely spoken in weeks. We certainly haven’t touched. Christ, Jack, you’ll barely look at me.”

And as he knew they would be, Jack’s eyes were averted.

Ianto took a step forward and watched Jack stand and move away from his desk, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“I had this wild notion,” Ianto said softly, “that this actually might bring us closer together. I thought we might…understand each other better.”

Jack laughed as he poured himself a drink. “And what on God’s green earth would give you that idea?” he asked bitterly. He quickly slugged back several fingers of whiskey.

“Well,” Ianto said, dragging a finger along the edge of Jack’s desk. “Now I know what forever looks like.” Ianto looked at Jack, and finally caught his gaze. “You’re not alone.”

Jack stared at Ianto for a moment, and then poured himself another drink.

It wasn’t easy at first, but Ianto had been rapidly growing accustomed to his new knowing, to being able to see through and into and beyond everything. Truth was woven through it all, and Ianto knew that. And yet, in this moment, realization seized his heart. He’d been so blind.

“You’re afraid,” Ianto said. Jack answered by turning his back to Ianto. “You’re afraid I’ll ask you for forever. You’d rather I make you mortal and die than…”

Ianto heard thunder roll across the sky outside. He balled his hands into fists and reminded himself of everything.

“You’re not Ianto,” Jack muttered, raising the glass to his lips.

Ianto crossed the room, grabbed Jack by the shoulder and forced him around to look in his face. “I can see it now,” he told Jack. “You’ve been hiding it for so long, but you can’t now there’s something bigger than yourself in the room. You’re a coward, Jack,” Ianto spat out, watching fear cloud Jack’s blue eyes. “You never wanted me to know you. You wanted me to adore you and be in awe of you. You didn’t want to understand me, you just wanted to fuck me.”

Jack’s face looked pale. Ianto knew it was his own light reflected back. If he looked fierce, vengeful, like lightening trapped in a form, that was alright—it was very honest.

“Sure, I’m a coward, fine—but that’s not how it was,” Jack said, backing against a wall. Ianto filled the space between them. “I loved Ianto.”

“I am Ianto.” He let himself grow large, and the room fill with the light of him. Jack held up an arm to shield his eyes. “Maybe you’ve just never seen me.”

Ianto was aware of glass splintering. Things were going to break. He didn’t want to break. Ianto took a deep breath, and the universe breathed with him. Things became small and full of wonder again. Ianto took a moment and thought of the stars. He took a deep breath, and found he had needed it.

“I love you, Jack,” Ianto said finally, softly. “I know you very well. And I still love you.”

Ianto gathered himself together, and risked reaching towards Jack’s face, and wiping the tear from his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Ianto said. He watched Jack slowly slide down, against the wall, and land roughly against the floor. He was small, and he was fragile. He seemed a stranger to Ianto.

“I’m so sorry,” Ianto said again, on his way out the door.

∞

This time, they didn’t ask him to leave Novotel. Traffic stopped. Broken bones knit. The streets filled with people. Grudges seemed smaller, burdens lighter, but every eye held tears. The moon came improbably close to the earth, and the oceans swelled. Several thousand tons of toxins became air and earth. Hearts felt full, without understanding why. People cried, and comforted each other, while Ianto played the piano.

∞

They handed him a duffel bag.

Ianto raised an eyebrow at it. “Is it a bomb? It’s the blue wire, isn’t it? Oh. Don’t tell me. It’ll ruin the suspense.”

“Its your things,” Owen said. He swallowed thickly and looked away.

Ianto noticed that tucked behind Tosh was a suitcase. He watched her pick it up and walk over to stand by him. “I’m going with you,” Tosh said, as much to the others as to Ianto.

“Where am I going?” Ianto asked, looking at the group.

“You can’t stay here,” Jack said simply.

“There’s nothing we can do for you,” Gwen added. Ianto noticed how very tired she sounded. “We can’t find any way to reverse what’s happened.”

“They also can’t seem to find anyway to kill you,” Tosh said darkly.

“Tosh,” Gwen breathed, looking away.

Ianto nodded. He looked at each of them. Jack put his hands in his pockets, his gaze on the ground and his countenance uncharacteristically gray. Gwen was busily gnawing a fingertip. Owen was staring at the ceiling, and if Ianto didn’t know better, his expression might suggest he was pleading with someone up there. Toshiko’s head was reverently bowed. It was terrible.

“What’s wrong with you all?” Ianto asked. He genuinely did not understand. “Christ, can’t you accept something good? _Stop being so afraid!”_

They slowly, reluctantly turned to him, and stiff, hesitant smiles appeared on their wide-eyed faces, command received. Ianto’s stomach twisted. It was all so wrong. He let go of their fear, and they inched away from him.

“Any of you bothered to wonder why I didn’t close the Rift?” Ianto asked. He didn’t wait for their silence. “I could do. Easily, in fact. But we need Torchwood, and Torchwood needs the Rift. Do you understand?”

They didn’t answer. They couldn’t look even at him.

“It’s too much,” Gwen said hoarsely.

Jack nodded. “It isn’t natural.”

  
For a moment, Ianto caught Jack’s eye. Jack looked away, and the shame couldn’t be hidden from Ianto.

“It could all be so simple,” Ianto said, mostly to himself. He turned and looked up at the metal labyrinth, the strange place that was the Torchwood Hub. In a moment, he saw it very clearly. He smiled sadly at the others. “But that isn’t the point, is it?”

Tosh looked at him, with a hint of suspicion. “Ianto?”

Ianto took her hand. “I’m sorry, Tosh,” he said quickly. He turned to the others. “I want you to know, it’s alright. I forgive you.”

Then, Ianto let himself crumple to the ground. He was, after all, very tired.

∞

It was a very fast infinity.

He walked across the surface of the sun, and solar flares lifted behind his heels, interfering with technical instruments across the galaxy. He raced a comet. He watched a world be born. He went supernova. He was born, and died. He peered into the center of a black hole, reached in, and pulled out what was admittedly a junker of a space craft. He somersaulted and cartwheeled through the cosmos. He forgot what a body was like, and spanned several light years. He looked down on a little planet called Earth. He remembered that its inhabitants didn’t want to be fixed, just the hope that they could be. He let his vastness leave him, to become smaller, and smaller, and smaller, until a spark traveled quietly through darkness for what seemed like a very long time…

∞

It was dark.

Ianto gasped and screamed with pain. He couldn’t see. He was aware of Owen’s hands holding him, Jack maybe too, and he fought them, reaching for anything, wanting to claw, to dig. He was weak, but it wasn’t long before they’d strapped him to the bed. Ianto sobbed while a needle slid into his arm. He moaned the same thing, over and over.

“Why?” he asked them. “Why, why, why?”

No one would answer.

And soon, it was dark again.

∞

When he woke up again, Jack was the only one there. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was, but Ianto felt like it was late. Jack looked over at him and quickly sat up in his seat, took one of Ianto’s hands.

“Hey,” Jack said kindly. “How are you feeling?”

Ianto blinked at him a few times. “Mortal,” he answered.

Jack seemed to flinch slightly, but he recovered. “Owen says your vitals look good. He reckons you might even be up and about in a few days.”

“Oh,” said Ianto. “Good.”

Jack nodded. “You gave us quite a scare.”

“Yes,” Ianto said. “I noticed.”

Ianto listened to the sounds of the Hub—the drip of water in the distance, the quiet creak of metal. That was all he heard.

Ianto startled when Jack pulled his chair closer, quickly undoing Ianto’s straps. “There’s, um, something I need to show you,” he said.

Ianto waited patiently. Jack cleared his throat and grabbed several newspapers from the side table, handing them to Ianto.

There seemed to be a lot of excitement regarding mysteriously cured illnesses in local hospitals, a number of people who had just narrowly avoided fatal accidents, natural catastrophes that had politely skimmed past populated areas, and other phenomena that were being enthusiastically labeled _miracles_. Ianto looked up at Jack, and saw the tired eyes, the tight jaw. He handed the papers back.

Jack cleared his throat. “Tosh…won’t speak to us. I think she may be leaving—“

“I’ll talk with her,” Ianto said.

Jack nodded. “Good. Thank you.”

For a moment, Jack just stared at him, and stroked the back of his hand with his thumb.

“I’m so sorry, Ianto,” Jack whispered suddenly. Ianto watched him crumble slowly. “I—didn’t...I couldn’t—“

“Shh,” Ianto interrupted. He reached out and stroked Jack’s face. “I said I forgive you.”

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Jack said helplessly.

Ianto thought, and gave a little shrug. “You can’t,” Ianto said. “But it will get better.”

Jack nodded quietly, and laid his head in Ianto’s lap, letting Ianto sweep his fingers gently through his hair.

Slowly, Ianto slipped back into sleep. For the first time in a long time, he dreamed, this time, of a vast, strange and beautiful universe.

After that, Ianto Jones found dreams to be of very great importance.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first-ever post on AO3, and comes after years away from fandom. Thanks for reading!


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